Just a Friend, Señor Fantasma
by ShapeShifter15
Summary: She was just the wife of the judge's son. He was just the ghost of the Opera Populaire. When he first saw her, he realized how strange the American woman was. When he first met her, he realized just how unique she was. A friendship would blossom between the two, but will this singular lady show the phantom the different types of love that exist or will she only break him even more?
1. Chapter 1

**This story will be mostly Leroux, with some Webber, but not much. I'll try to keep it mostly Leroux. Also, you guys HAVE to read Requiem Mask. It is amazing!**

**Link:** **requiem mask .com**

_Paris _

_November 2__nd__ 1900_

_I was told that he was a demon sent from the pits of hell to torment on humanity. I was told that he was also a monster who should not be treated on the same level as a human. I was told that he was a madman, unfit to be called a human, and a creature that should be killed for the benefit of humanity._

_I was not raised to destroy those that were not born as I was. I was not born to reject those that are different. My brother was born with a deformity, yet I loved him until he passed away. He may not have been born like the rest of us, perfect in our appearance, but father used to say that Roberto was the smartest one of the whole family. I believe Roberto was there to prepare me for my future._

_When I first met him, all I did not see that he had suffered, I was frightened. He was a tall creature in black and ready to destroy me with one swift move. I have often asked him why he did not kill me when we first met, and he told me that he could never harm the wife of the judge's son unless he wanted to spend the rest of his life persecuted._

_He may not have been the most perfect man on this earth, but he was the most human. Every day, I pray for him in hopes that the Lord will have mercy on his soul and forgive him for the suffering he has caused. It was not his fault. Humanity was the cause for his nature. I believe that had he been born in a better time or family, he would have been accepted._

_Yes, he was my friend. What of it? He was my best friend and I will not regret it._

_Many have asked me why I, a woman of a higher class, have consorted with the likes of him. Did I not see the monster he was?_

_Yes. I did see the monster he was at first. He nearly killed me on our first meeting when I knew who he was, however when I saw him, I saw my brother. I could not bring myself to hate him. I felt as if I had to show this man that he could be accepted, if not by humanity, then into my family. It took me a long time to gain his trust. He has often told me that I followed him like a chick follows its mother._

_Monster. Devil. Demon. Corpse. Ghost. Phantom. Erik._

_Of all the names he had been called, there was one name he had never been called, friend. Until we met, he had never been called a friend. The first time that I referred to him in such a fashion, he believed I was referring to someone else._

_He was my friend, and I will always consider him the greatest of men and friends for all eternity._

-_from the private journals of Irene D'aureval_


	2. Chapter 2

_June 30__th__ 1870_

_Paris_

Alexander has really outdone himself this time. I have told him that he should not have gone to such extents, but of course, he has always done everything with exaggeration and drama. This time, he had blindfolded me after a week in Paris. He led me, with my eyes still covered, towards a carriage and drove me to some unknown location. Diego was currently under the care of Alex's sister, Frances. I suppose I should be happy that Diego has found someone his own age to play with. His cousins are very nice and charming, their mother, not so much. She dislikes me mainly because I am an American and a mestizo.

The carriage stopped in front of a building. The smell of hay and horses told me that I was in some stables. Alex took my hand and I let him lead me as I tried to figure out where I was. I tried to catch the conversations around me, but without success. They either were talking in rapid French or too low for me to hear. We stopped and Alex took off the blindfold.

I gasped.

I was standing in front of a large and beautifully made building. It almost reminded me of a small castle. It was simply beautiful. Alex led me inside, a smile on both our faces. Oh that boy! That is the exact reason why I married him. He always knew how to make me happy. Father said that he spoiled me too much, but what is the use of having a husband if he is not there to spoil you?

Two men welcomed us and introduced themselves as the new joint-managers of the opera populaire. They were MM. Armand Moncharmin and Firmin Richard. Moncharmin was a tall man with brown hair and a small moustache. Richard was a shorter than his companion and rounder. He seemed to be the friendlier of the two.

"A pleasure to meet you, Madame," he greeted me.

Alex told them that he would be attending the opera and the managers told him that they had a box specifically reserved for his family. Later on I would learn that Alex's family had helped both managers earn a start in the scrap metal business and when they became the managers of the opera, they remembered the D'Aureval family. Alex had told them of our coming to Paris, and the managers have reserved a box for us. The managers wanted to give us a tour and we accepted.

We were led through the back stage of the opera house. The ballet dancers were practicing under the watchful gaze of their ballet mistress. She was introduced to us as Madame Giry. She seemed to be a stern yet kind woman and she reminded me of my mother. Fierce as a lion, yet gentle as a kitten. La Carlotta was an Italian singer, and in my opinion, I wondered why she was even allowed to sing. I confessed this to Alex who nodded his agreement. I believe that I became temporarily deaf after I heard her sing. They were practicing for Hannibal. Their performance was next week.

The managers left us to our devices when they were called for some important matters. Alex and I chatted with some of the performers. As he talked to one of the male dancers I walked around, enjoying myself, when I bumped into the Persian.

"I am so sorry," I said as I helped him pick up the things he had dropped.

"It is fine," he assured.

The Persian wore an astrakhan cap and a black coat. In his hands were some papers written in French, but I did not know what they were. The Persian left quickly without another word and I was left wondering what the reason for his was. As I walked, I was vaguely aware that I was separating myself from Alex. When I did come to this realization, I was already lost and alone. The halls were lost leading me to believe had reached the opera house's cellars. The torches were burning low and the air was damp and cold. I feared that I would catch a cold or my death here. I could barely see from the light of the torches as I made my way through the halls. Unfortunately I did not remember the way form which I came from. I was frightened. I wondered if I would ever find my way out of this dreadful and frightening place.

"Hello?" I called in French, "is any one there?"

My voice echoes through the halls, but I did not receive an answer. Cold fear washed over my body as I wondered if I would ever find my way up to the surface. As I walked, the way I came back, I realized that the halls must've been more labyrinthine than I originally thought.

"Hello?" I called again, "please is any one there? I am lost and I do not know the way up."

I do not know how long I was in those cellars, Alex later told me I was there for over an hour and a half. From the dim light of the dying torchlights, I saw a dark figure before me. I could not make out the shape.

"Hello? Monsieur?" I asked as I walked closer.

I was at arm's length and I touched his shoulder. I held back a gasp when I felt bone underneath his garments. He wore a cloak and a black fedora. He turned to me and I was aware of his yellow eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked me, anger in his voice, "and how did you get here?"

I was frightened of course. Normally, I would have defended myself, but the dark cellar had begun to have its effect on me. I was beginning to wonder if this man was a demon or some sort of nightmarish creature. But his voice, I noticed, his voice seemed to be unearthly and heavenly. I found myself becoming calm under its hypnotic spell. I loved his angelic voice.

"I am sorry monsieur," I said gathering all the courage I could muster, "but I assure you it was not my intention to get lost. If you could please tell me where I might find the path that would lead me to the surface, I will leave you in peace. My husband must be worrying himself. He does not know where I am."

The man was silent, but I could see the hatred in his yellow eyes. He must have been considering my words. He grabbed my wrist and I could feel his long bony fingers underneath his gloves. The smell of death filled my nose and I was reminded of the cemeteries near the churches in California. This man had the same smell.

He led me through the labyrinth. I tried to keep his pace, but I was failing. He walked with long strides and he was no doubt three heads taller than I was.

"Monsieur," I said, "if you could please slow your pace. I'm afraid I cannot keep up."

He did not answer me, but he did slow his pace at my request. I did not recognize the paths he led me through. We twisted right and left as he led me and he would warn me to watch my step.

"Do you work here, monsieur?" I asked him.

"In a way," he replied.

"What do you work as?" I asked him, curiosity in my voice.

"That is none of your business, woman."

Soon we reached the surface. The man led me through some more paths until we were close to the stage. From the daylight I could now see my savior. He was a tall and very thin man, if his neck was anything to go by. He wore a long black cloak that covered most of his body, save for the arm that held me. The sleeve of his coat seemed to be expensive and I wondered if he was wealthy. His gloves also seemed to be made of expensive leather. My eyes settled on his mask. It was a black mask that covered the entirety of his face. His yellow eyes no longer shone in the light, but I could see the irises.

He let go of my wrist.

"Thank you, monsieur," I said, "I am indebted to you. I feel ashamed now that I realized I have not properly introduced myself. My name is Irene D'Aureval. What is yours?"

I held my hand out to him. The man stared at my hand like a stray dog does to an offered piece of food, he wary. I wondered why he was wary of me. I wondered if it had anything to do with the mask. I gave him a reassuring smile.

Slowly his hand came out of the cloak and shook mine firmly.

"Erik," he introduced himself.

I heard my name called and I turned. It was Alex. He ran forward and embraced me in a hug, relieved that I was safe.

"You gave me quite a fright, Irene," he scolded, "don't ever do that me again. I was about to send for a search party when I could not find you."

"I am sorry, Alex," I told him, "I got lost in the cellars of the opera house. If it weren't for monsieur Erik I would not have gotten out as quickly as I did."

I turned to Erik only to find that he had disappeared. I frowned, wondering where he could have gone off to.

"Strange," I said, "he was here a moment ago."

Alex smiled either way, "no matter, you are safe now. I thank this man Erik, wherever he may be, for keeping you safe and helping you. Come, we must take our leave. I have no doubt Diego will be asking for you."

"Yes, let's."

Alex found the managers and thanked them for a good day. The managers were relieved that I was found safe and sound. For some strange reason they had worried I would be found dead. I decided it would be best to keep Erik a secret from them, no doubt the man would be questioned and I learned he did not take well to others.

We returned home, but not before stopping by Francis's home to collect Diego. Diego was happy to see me and bid farewell to his cousins and his aunt.

That night, after supper, my mind wandered to Erik. I wondered who that strange man who smelled of death was. I wondered why he wore the mask and why he was so thin. Most of all, I wondered why he was wary of me. He did not seem to trust me that much. Roberto came to my mind, and I wondered if Erik had the same condition as Roberto. He had to hide from society because if they knew the truth, they would most certainly kill him.


	3. PLEASE READ!

**To my faithful and loyal readers,**

**I am sorry. I am sorry for not updating often. I am sorry for trying to follow my schedule and failing royally at it. I am sorry. I want to thank all of you loyal fans who have stuck with me since the beginning. You're all awesome. Really, you are. You have stuck through my broken promises and still love my stories. I am grateful for it.**

**Here's what I'm going to do. I'll work with one story at the time and if that story is completed or I have enough chapters completed beforehand, I'll /update a different one.**

**Right now I'm writing an assassin's creed one, so check it out. this will be the one I'm working on during the school year.**

**Wonderland will be discontinued and taken from the site indefinitely. A story with the same characters will be written and it will be titled "the other side." It won't be dimensional travel this time.**

**The one shots are staying of course.**

**Just a friend will be taken off until I have fully developed it.**

**Downside will be restarted and updated irregularly.**

**Sorcerer will most likely updated more during the summer or whenever I can squeeze in a chapter during school time.**

**Future justice will have a few changes, some plot changes. Will be updated on summer vacation.**

**Sherlock Holmes fanclub will have an update as soon as I finish the chapter, and change a few things in the first two.**

**One in a million will be updated on the summer. No major changes for this one.**

**It's my life will be taken down. I'm trashing that one, sorry about that but I have lost the inspiration for this one.**

**GJM will be rewritten again, but I'm not taking it down. I know you guys like that one.**

**Again, I am sorry, but junior year is hard and friends are the only things that are keeping me sane right now. Friends and drawing. I'm now I used to update constantly and I'll share something with you. last year, sophomore year, was horrible for me and writing was one of the things that helped. Junior year is great so I don't have that much need for writing. I draw mostly since I'm mostly encouraged with that.**

**But for you, my readers, I'll try to get back into the writing mood again and update multiple stories at a time, but expect it during the summer or when I have enough inspiration to write and update a story.**

**Your faithful servant,**

**Shape Shifter15**


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